It’s felt like a very long, very hot summer already and I’m not going to lie, I’ve bloody loved it. Every sodding minute of it. Yeah, I know… drought, climate change, turds floating in rock-pools (turds at Conservative party hustings…), but still, it’s been lovely and I’m not going to let any dystopian forebodings spoil it.
My current state of rose-tinged light-headedness may not be unconnected to the fact that we’ve just spent almost a month living like kings travelling around the north of Spain. We’ve done it all. We’ve eaten tiny works of art in pintxos bars in Bilbao; drunk scrumpy poured from on high by proud waiters in Asturias; snoozed like Spaniards in Santander; hopped jauntily onto trains, coaches, trams, buses and taxis; stayed in a creaking convent in León; sipped little shots of patxaran in Vitoria-Gasteiz and generally wandered around like drooling, red-faced, slack-jawed tourists.
It’s been an absolute blast.
I mention all this not to make you feel jealous (although, you know…) Rather, I wanted to introduce my latest slightly ridiculous musical daytrip…
Basque Prog
(It’s niche, I know…)
Quite apart from all the other brilliant things about Bilbao, I found a really excellent record shop, called I think Power Records. I say “I think” because predictably I visited a fair few over the four weeks, and I regret to say it’s all a bit of a blur, already. I came away with a bag full of CDs of Basque records from the seventies that I let the owner persuade me were classics. I’ve always believed record shop owners to be noble sorts, possessed of a Corinthian spirit, never known to dupe credulous tourists. And so it proved again – each of the CDs I was sold are wonderful. A niche very much born.
With Franco gone in 1975 and the transition into democracy a bit of a walk into (and out of) the unknown, it turns out something of a “scene” developed in País Vasco, a new flowering of Basque musicians born of a desire to express themselves once again in their own language. A generation of zealous songwriters, hip to the music of the UK and US but keen to interpret it through their own traditional music and instruments, started to release a beguiling set of records that Elkar Vinyl are now re-releasing.
The touchstone record that has started me off is a compilation from a label based in San Sebastian called Elkar – Katebegiak – Euskal Prog-Rock, Psych-Rock & Jazz Rock Musika – a beautifully packaged booklet/CD of such groups. I’d been tempted to download it from Bandcamp before I left but I’m glad I didn’t – it’s a lovely piece to lay hands upon.
There are some great tracks on it. Try this one for starters, by “The first legendary name in Basque Rock” (it says here…), French band Errobi:
Awkward bugger, isn’t it? You keep thinking it’s drawing to a close, then you realise there are still another 6 minutes of ill-shaped but earnest meandering. I really like the percussion section which sounds a bit like a deadened gong but I’ve a feeling is one of those strange wooden traditional things you see the fans at the San Mames playing before games. I have an Errobi CD still to explore properly – you might be hearing more… There are other contributions from other similarly odd-sounding groups with frumpy names like Haizea, Itoiz, Enbor and Izukaitz. Now if you’ve spent any time near me in the last ten years or so, you’ll know I’m naively bewitched by strangeness and unfamiliarity, and I am very keen to explore these new territories.
The best track on the record, though, is a mysterious collaboration between traditional singer Amaia Zubiria and composer Pascal Gaigne. I saw the record this was taken from, also in Bilbao and was sorely tempted to buy it despite the obvious impracticality of dragging vinyl around on the aforementioned trains, trams and automobiles. Regrettably, common sense prevailed and I’ll have to buy the digital version from Elkar…
This is great though isn’t it?
A really satisfying blend of folk sentiment from Zubiria and Riley-ish tones & drones provided by Gaigne. The latter moved onto film soundtracks (rarely a good move), but Amaia Zubiria is I believe something of a recently-rediscovered national treasure. She has an elegantly pure voice, evocative of a dark Sandy Denny and sings in her native Basque. You’ll know this I’m sure, but hers is one of the few completely independent languages of the world – it has no links to any known language currently spoken anywhere on the planet. It is the definition of outlandishness, and I am struck dumb before it.
I could (probably should) have asked my friend to translate some these lyrics for me but I somehow didn’t get round to it – and now I don’t fancy the idea of feeding them into the Google translate thresher, it doesn’t seem right.
It’s OK – I’m more than happy not knowing, enjoying the humid, earthy strangeness of music from another world.
Dark, beautiful stuff…
Partly Porpoise 